Nykur, page 3
“Hugh, you made it.”
“Yeah,” he said, not bothering to compete with music someone had turned up too high. “I don’t know anyone here.” He spoke louder this time, realising she probably hadn’t heard him before.
“Don’t worry.” she replied. “Come with me.”
Glittery eyeshadow spread from her eyelid to her brow. Her eyes were bright and blue, dancing with excitement as she jumped up to speak closer to his ear, her propped hand raising her cup out of any danger. She turned towards a raucous group nearby, expecting him to follow. She stopped at a small side table laden with cheap plastic cups and various alcoholic drinks. She poured him a drink without him being able to see what it was. He knew by the smell before it even reached his lips that it would taste foul. On his tongue it tasted like the cool sweetness of cordial, but at the swallow the sweetness was gone and what replaced it was a dragon that protested its consumption hotly. He pursed his lips and vowed to sip no more. In the time since first tasting some wine his mother had left uncorked one night, the taste of alcohol had made no improvement.
He stayed on the outer edge of the group she returned to. The only person he knew apart from Liana was Kain, who stood right in the centre. The colour was high in Kain’s cheeks and by the exaggerated movement of his arms and upper body it was obvious that he was already well acquainted with the drink this evening. He had little interest in getting involved in whatever it was they found so amusing. Liana was all smiles. She was talking with girls he’d never seen her with before, but with her bodycon dress and perfectly arranged hair she fit right in, at least on the surface. Having known her since reception, Hugh knew that for a long time she had shunned the lure of makeup and the glossy ads of fashion and celebrity infatuation, dismissing it as facile and shallow. She had always been fresh faced and confident in her bare skin and inquisitive mind. She had remained loyal with girls who, like her, preferred to spend their break time playing sport or discussing books over gossip or incessant boy chasing. He imagined them being kicked to the curb in favour of this new crowd. She sipped on her drink every few seconds.
Kain had quietened down and stepped away from the centre of attention now, leaving another lad to take a turn. He kept glancing towards Liana, and after a minute his gaze fell upon Hugh. They appraised each other through the crowd, the music still thudding on, mixing with the thrum of conversation and sending out the pulse of a powerful bass that made focus difficult. He downed the rest of his drink, tossing the cup to the floor before approaching him.
“I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”
“Liana invited me.” Hugh replied. Kain shot another glance to Liana who smiled and tucked her free arm across her stomach. His eyes darted back to Hugh.
“Enjoying it?”
“Not really.”
Kain made a dismissive sound and reached for one of his pockets. He pulled out a packet of cigarettes but stopped before opening it, instead running his fingers over the seal.
“Not good enough for you, Hugh? You can’t just enjoy it like everyone else?”
“Is everything ok?” Liana touched his elbow but Hugh didn’t react.
“I should just go,” he said.
“You just got here, don’t go yet.”
“Let him go,” Kain said. “This obviously isn’t up to his standards.”
“Stop acting like a prick.” Hugh said, trying to make himself heard over the sound system. Kain stepped closer, now within the border of the usual personal space given in conversation. Hugh could smell the drink on his breath. He kept his eyes on Hugh as he returned his attention to the packet in his hands and drew out a couple of cigarettes. He stuck one between his lips and held the other out to Hugh.
“Come stand outside with me.” He offered patting his pockets down looking for his lighter. Hugh looked at the cigarette that was balancing in the light hold of Kain’s slender fingers. Liana was still watching them both, her drink forgotten.
“I’m leaving.” Hugh said, but it was so quiet that only Kain caught his words. All Liana saw was his mouth move before he turned and drifted away through the crowded house. Hugh got to the doorway and found that it blocked by the same people. He didn’t slip past this time, instead barging through as if he did not see them. The shouts came, but they were behind him now, and the fresh air and space worked at once to ease his anger. He got onto the main road and thought he was alone until Liana’s shouts rang out from behind. She called for him to wait. He slowed but only a little as she caught up with him, the click of her heels on the pavement sounding her approach.
“Hugh! Where are you going?” she asked. He stopped and turned to her, struck by the disparity in her beauty and the ugliness of the surroundings.
“It’s not my scene, you enjoy yourself. I’m going home.”
“Screw the party then. We can do something different, chill at mine if you like. Anything you want.”
“Honestly, I just want to get back. Message me tomorrow and we can do something.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. Get back to your friends.” And with that, Hugh continued walking. Liana walked back to the house over the cracked paving and through the gathered that were smoking. Kain waited at the door, watching.
By the time Hugh reached the summit of his drive he knew he had returned to the world of silence and solitude. The night was quiet. The sky was now calm and scattered with stars. He placed a hand around the brass knob of the door and ceased to move. It had been less than an hour since he’d left the house and Dylan’s film would still be underway inside. He looked toward the woods, from here all he saw was the black peak of trees against the sky. They held a dark appeal. They offered a kind of purpose, a place to be. He would see if it was as empty as he had always known it of anything living that didn’t melt away at your approach. He walked to it with long, loping strides down the path he had made, cushioned with flattened grass at his feet and hidden either side by the tall sentry of stems. They dragged against the leg of his jeans and pulled at the cuff of his shirt.
Under the cover of the trees where strange noises sounded from untraceable directions, he turned down the path that cut to the river. He stepped into the clearing expecting to see nothing, but to his surprise the horse was there, stood in the river with the water breaking against her knees. She looked to be resting, but raised her head at his appearance. All thoughts of the party were forgotten. He watched her closely as he crossed the dry ground toward the river.
He stopped, seeing the horse break into motion and wade to the bank, mounting its low slope with ease and continuing to come towards him. Her head was low and her ears forward, approaching with casual interest until they were facing each other within touching distance. The horse raised her head to catch his scent, and he froze as he felt her hot breath coat his hair for a few seconds before she looked back to the water. He extended a hand and placed it against her skin, devoid of warmth. The mare pawed the ground as if restless, nudging his shoulder as if expecting him to do something. Hugh didn’t know how to react, continuing with both hands to stroke her coat and trying to discern if she liked it.
To his surprise, the shoulder he’d been stroking began to sink, and he watched her lower her front end to the ground, her rear end hanging in the air for a moment before dropping to the floor with an audible thud. Hugh was unsure what to do. The mare turned to look at him and tossed her head, asking for something in a language he didn’t understand. He reached out and touched her sleek skin again in hope this was what she sought, however the horse was still showing signs of agitation, pointing her muzzle behind her and then looking at Hugh with imploring eyes. He placed his other hand behind her wither, applying the slightest pressure and expecting a reaction. She watched him still. He took a rallying breath and lifted a leg over her back where she lay, as gently as he could. He paused before lowering his weight onto her to sit. Her reaction was instantaneous. She rocked backwards; her extended front legs drawing themselves inwards and getting a good footing on the loose ground. Hugh grasped a fistful of mane as he clung to her. She stood in one smooth motion, and at once headed to the river she had come from. Hugh watched the impending rush of shallow water not realising the horse’s intentions before it descended the bank and entered the black water. He felt dizzy, hunched forward and seeing only the swirling river far beneath the horse’s sloping shoulder. It crept up her lower legs as she waded further in. He felt an abstract terror grip his body and his knees clamped to her sides as the damp crept through his best jeans. His fingers entwined in her mane as he lay helpless across her back. She started to paw and scrape at the water.
Back on dry land, hidden by the heavy cover of trees and vegetation, a figure moved from where they had been standing watch a short distance away. Breath rasped from between old, cracked lips as stubbed fingers split the leaves for a better view. In the water, the horse turned on its hindquarters, dragging her nose through the surface. Hugh had no idea what she was doing. He was an unwitting passenger astride her back, praying silently for their return to dry land. Distracted by his situation, he’d failed to observe the surrounding area, not noticing the man that was watching them from the clearing.
It was only when he heard a faint chuckle carried on the delicate breeze, almost forgettable if it hadn’t been for the rough undertone, its origin strange and unfamiliar. It was the kind of sound that knocks you from ease to anxiety at its first utterance, and this was its effect. Hugh’s wide eyes darted to locate the source, but before he could make out the dark shapes on land, the world seemed to shift away from him and he found himself mercy to gravity. He plunged into the river as the horse dropped to her knees and rolled on to her side. He scrambled to his feet, his breath knocked from him with the sudden immersion in cold water, but he managed to just about dodge the upended animal whose legs were kicking and creating a splash.
His feet waterlogged and his shirt ruined and stuck to his skin, he escaped the water before addressing the strange noise he’d heard. In the dim space he could make out the shape of a person standing a few feet away. They were short, their hunched silhouette appeared to be smiling, perhaps the same leer from which the alarming laugh had emerged. The horse emerged from the water next to him and made a soft throaty sound, walking towards the figure quite at ease.
The man’s voice broke the still that had set over them.
“She likes you it seems. But be thankful that water was shallow.” He laughed again, at his first breath it morphed into a coughing fit.
Hugh froze, trying to pick out details of the stranger he was alone with. The man was old, his voice hoarse and his posture poor. A paunch around his middle hung over the string that had tied his trousers. He wore scrappy, bound leather shoes that didn’t look in the least bit comfortable, and atop his head a lumpy, woolen cap shadowed his face.
As the man recovered, his hand rose to caress the mare’s muzzle. All Hugh noticed was the shape of four pale fingers in the light of the clearing.
“Don’t you, Sanna? You like him.” he said, this time addressing the horse before lowering his deformed hand and returning his gaze to the boy. “I won’t hurt you if that’s what you’re worried about.” His tone was awkward and impatient.
Hugh tried to clear his throat to speak, but the sound was too abrupt.
“I didn’t know she was yours.”
The old man seemed to consider something for a moment, and then to Hugh’s great relief he relaxed and began to assemble a fresh fire within the remains of the previous one, using what burdened his deep pockets. Once finished he sat on a rotted log, pulling it closer to the burgeoning flames.
“She doesn’t belong to me, she doesn’t belong to anyone. We are old friends.” he said, sounding weary. He seemed to search Hugh with his piercing, faintly luminescent eyes. Hugh avoided eye contact, he was trying and failing to think of an excuse to leave without seeming rude. As he processed the words of his new company, questions sprung to the forefront of his mind. He shivered, his wet clothes clinging to his goose touched skin.
“Come sit boy. I bet you’re frozen cold, how about I fetch a towel?” The man spoke with a strong accent; it was not native. He hadn’t time to answer the suggestion before the man bustled back to the trees, disappearing from sight before he reappeared bearing a brown towel. The horse he called Sanna stood swishing her tail by the water’s edge. He wrapped it round his shoulders. Despite the strong smell of mildew and the outdoors it went some way to warming him, and with the fire crackling and beginning to radiate heat, he responded to the man’s motioning and sat upon his own log.
“My name’s Gamel if you wanted to know,” the man said.
“I’m Hugh. Do you live here?” He looked towards the area from where Gamel had retrieved a towel but saw no erected shelter. “In the woods?”
“Yes, for the time being. It’s not where we want to be, but Sanna is unwell and too weak to keep moving around. I fear if I move her much further she will cease to move entirely.”
Hugh looked again to the horse that to his knowledge was the picture of health.
“What’s wrong with her? Would a vet help? I could get you the number.“
“No. No vet,” Gamel said, and seemed to undergo an inner conflict on whether to say more “We have come a long way, looking for a safe and permanent home. It’s been hard for her. She’s not accustomed to travelling.” Hugh nodded and looked toward the mare with renewed curiosity.
“Where are you from?” Hugh asked. “You don’t have to tell me,” He added as an afterthought. Gamel watched him with watery, sunken eyes.
“Our original home? That’s a long way from here. We’re both from Denmark; we lived on a farm there. After the family that owned it moved away, we had to leave. It was to be developed.” He spat the last word as if it were bitter on his tongue. “Are you warmed up?” Hugh nodded, but his shivering was beyond his control. “You need to change into some dry clothes.”
Hugh got to his feet.
“I don’t have far to get home.”
“That’s good.”
“Will you be staying here?”
“For now, most likely. But if you go telling people and they come looking, we’ll be gone.”
“I won’t.” Hugh replied quickly. He took a step towards home before Gamel’s voice stopped him one last time.
“If you wanted to do me a favour boy, there is something that I’d like.”
“What is it?”
“Bring me some salted porridge, a pat of butter on top. You bring that every evening and just leave it by this log and I’ll return the favour.”
Hugh gave a sincere nod. The rational part of his mind told him it was dangerous, reckless even to get involved with a strange man living rough in the woods. But his encounters with the horse and now the man had been one of his few sources of enjoyment in recent times, and his sole source of excitement. Plus, if it was an excuse to get out of his house and away from the atmosphere of his mother, then even better.
“Should I bring anything for Sanna? I offered her an apple the other day, but she didn’t seem to like it.”
Gamel’s face, lit up in a curious way by the slim reach of the moonlight through the trees and the flicker of the firelight began to move; deep etched, cavernous lines started to shift to accommodate a smile. He was trying to stifle a laugh.
“You won’t have much luck feeding her fruit.” His smile faded. Hugh said a quick goodbye before heading towards home. As soon as he reached the main path, he ran.
Chapter 5
The following day, Hugh set about his usual routine of dressing and dealing with Dylan. But he had something new now to occupy his thoughts, for his imagination was alight with the memory of how the horse felt beneath him, and his encounter with the man. He’d been trusted with a favour. He knew that any adult would advise against it, but as he sat through the repetitive children’s shows trying to face the mess of housework and clutter, he shut his eyes, closing out the house and wishing he was in the trees beyond the garden.
He had a tried and tested method of dealing with household chores. It was the one he found most efficient and requiring the least effort. He shut out all the minor tasks, the ones that didn’t affect day to day functioning such as sweeping, mopping, polishing; all that was forgotten. It was the stuff that if you left, it became increasingly difficult to go about your everyday life, and he had tried. Experience told him that when the side and the sink began to fill with dirty cups and plates to the extent that there was no free space on which to prepare any food, that was the time to load the dishwasher. And when the laundry basket would hold no more and the floor became a mire of undistinguishable, musty cotton folds, it was time to use the washing machine. He did what he had to. It was hard sometimes when it felt like all Dylan and his mother did was work against him and create more mess, but he kept things going. As long as Dylan was clothed and fed, that was enough. But he longed for it not to be a burden on his mind and missed the days where he could invite his friends round without worry.
The day was already a bad one. A constant drizzle had persisted and the murky clouds that hung before the sun would send an occasional strong gust of wind, throwing sharp rain against the windows like finger taps. It meant staying indoors and as a result Dylan had been restless and difficult to entertain. After he’d finished serving up packet pasta, eating his portion from the pan and then discarding it on the counter to form its impermeable crust, his mother made an appearance.
They swapped short bursts of small talk in the kitchen, Hugh reluctant, his mother half asleep as he checked the back of the cupboard for porridge oats. Despite his pre-dinner effort, the counter was still chaotic with all variety of mess and items that were not where they belonged. His mother mumbled that she would have to go out and pick up some dinner before she straightened and her eyes cast over the used plate on the slip of free table and the pans and empty instant pasta packets that had spilt their powder residue. He left her by herself.
